


Call Me, Beep Me

by Nimbus_Cloud



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Assassin AU, Assassins & Hitmen, F/M, M/M, Multi, OT3, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:26:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1284391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimbus_Cloud/pseuds/Nimbus_Cloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...if you wanna reach me and hire me to kill someone.</p><p>Assassin AU with Eren, Armin, and Mikasa; Inspired by some fantastic fanart from Sam (in which Eren is wearing basically Kim Possible's outfit) and, as usual, spawned from Cat's trashy AU brain.  Nobody is related and everybody bangs and it's basically murder and sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'll su her casa

“Ngh!”

“Ahh!”

“God…”

“Nnghh….”

A beastly hand ravenously grabbed a fistful of soft, blonde hair, tugging on it to the tune of a wicked moan. The delightful sound touched Eren’s cock with a tenderness lost on his ears and he came with a shudder, trembling as he spilled out. 

Armin gave a slightly disappointed groan.

“Over already?” 

“Shut up.”

Eren smacked the recently pounded ass as he toppled onto the mattress beside it, forcefully exhaling a deeply pleased sigh.

“Well, it’s just as well.  You were technically supposed to leave ten minutes ago.”

“Couldn’t leave without a quick fuck.” Eren grinned as he slid off the used latex from his length and shoved it back into his pants.

“Emphasis on the word ‘quick.’”

Eren gave a disgruntled noise as Armin grinned, and the poor brunette mumbled something about having a comeback for that insult later.

“You can think about it while you’re on your way. Now go.” 

“What about—“

“Phone sex while you’re in the jet. In the meantime, the Foreign Trade Minister of Armenia awaits.” 

Armin practically kicked Eren off the bed, throwing a casual pillow over his own unsated arousal as he watched his killer boyfriend muck about the room, doing a final check of all his things. It was a pointless ritual; Armin usually pre-packed all of his gear because they had long since learned that Eren would always forget at least one something, if not half a dozen. And as Eren zipped closed his black carrier bag full of indescribables, Armin marked the ritual as complete noting that Eren had completely forgotten to check for his passport. But whether he knew it or not, it was resting safe and snug in the lining pocket of his bag. 

“Should I bring home his heart for you?” The tone was honey sweet, though the words echoed a certain… depravity. 

“Sweet as the gesture is, I think my shelves are running out of space between my books and all the preserved intestines you bring home.” 

Their lips met hotly, albeit briefly, Eren’s fingers seizing a final touch of Armin’s silky locks before he flew out the door. Hot and bothered would be a supreme understatement to describe Armin’s frustrations, but even still he knew that it was only a matter of time before…

“And, three… two… one…”

The door flew back open.

“Do you know where my passport is?”

“In your bag, the front inside pocket.” Armin smirked.

“You’re a fucking gift, Armin.”

“And you’re going to be late.” 

* * *

 

“You’ve got him in your sights then?” Armin’s voice crackled through the earpiece.

“Give me a minute, I’ve gotta get set up here.”

The Hong Kong air was stuffy, stifling… it was well after dusk but the heat had barely dissipated, and Eren felt he might drown in his all-black attire.  But he had to admit the conditions were perfect for sniping.  Not a breath of wind to fight with, low visibility and smog for anyone not using a telescope, and the din and clamor of a bustling city below and all around him. 

Opening the case containing his beauteous rifle—dubbed Carla after his dear sweet mum—he leisurely kicked open the stand, pulled out his scope, loaded the gun—

“We’re using .338 Lapua Magnum cartridges now?”

“Only the best for my psychotic boyfriend.”

“I love you so fucking much.” Eren kissed the night air in place of absent lips and settled his eyes down onto the scope, pulling his target into view in the hotel across the way. 

“Put a bullet through Mr. Nalbandian and I’ll just let you love me.” 

His gloved fingers gently caressed the trigger, and he was just about to pull when Mr. Nalbandian rose from his comfortable armchair conveniently placed by the window and went to the door.

“Tch.” 

“What is it?” 

“He’s moving to the door.  Probably ordered himself a whore or something. Rich bastards of his type usually do.”

“Are you feeling sorry for their wives?” Armin teased, having been called one himself on no less than three separate occasions.

“For the whores.” 

The door opened to reveal a stunning woman who, while beautiful, didn’t exactly fit Eren’s image of a typical Hong Kong prostitute.  It probably had something to do with one side of her head being shaved short.

“Bastard’s got good taste at least.”

“Is she pretty?” 

The black trenchcoat fell to the floor as the door shut closed behind her and Eren’s eye widened behind the lens of his scope.

“Hot.” 

“Don’t have to kill her, you know. Could just wait until she leaves.”

“I’m not getting paid to kill her, so she’s free to go.” 

“In other words, you want a free show.”

Eren could only smirk as he watched the gorgeous woman pull a bottle of champagne out of her bag, strutting about the room with coy smiles and suggestive hip shimmies in nothing but lingerie and heels. They mumbled something or other about a toast before drinking down the bubbly liquid.  The girl ‘accidentally’ spilled some onto her nearly bare breasts and giggled—she was a pro. 

He had been so focused on the perfect angles of her curves, Eren hadn’t realized that Nalbandian had gone into a seizing fit until he was collapsing onto the floor.

“Shit!” 

“What happened?” 

“He’s fucking seizing—he—she’s poisoned him!”

“What?”

Through the scope he could see her blood red lips curve into a smile before she pulled more clothing out of her bag, discarded her heels in favor of more comfortable footwear, and pulled out a deep red scarf to cover her neck.

Then she walked towards the window and very distinctly; she pointed her finger in Eren’s direction, the longer fringes of her hair falling into her face as she winked. 

“Titan shit.”

“We could still get the bounty for this—“

“No, Armin; she saw me.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“She fucking knew I was up here, that bitch!”

Eren slammed the scope down onto the roof, shattering the lens and stomping on its remains. 

“Eren, you should probably get out of there. That was probably Mikasa.”

“I’ll fucking _su_ her _casa_ —“

“Eren, that didn’t even make sense. In any language that exists to mankind.”

“Shut up, okay!  I’m not good at—“

“Just pack up and go.  She’s only the best assassin in the business.”

“Thief is more like it.” 

But he grudgingly began to pack, slamming his supplies into the case without care or worry and turned to leave when he saw her, leaning against the door to the stairs, arms crossed and smiling.

“You!”

“Name-calling to justify your own incompetence?” She raised a slender brow.

“He was mine and you fucking knew it!”

“He’s not yours until your bullet goes through his head.  Until he’s dead, he’s fair game for anyone.  And he’s made a lot of enemies.”  She was smiling.

“Yeah, well… you’ve just made another enemy of your own.”

“You’re not the first person to say that to me.” Her eyes scanned him up and down. “Or the first person to call me hot.”

“Look—just, stay out of my way!”

“Likewise.” 

She turned sideways, hand on the door, and just before leaving, remarked,

“By the way, you look like Kim Possible.”


	2. Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you bring the world's best assassin to heel? If anyone can figure out a way, it's Armin. With or without help from Eren.

“She’s mucked up three of my jobs at this point!”

Stomping around with a petulant pout, Eren threw his dagger at the unsuspecting mannequin against the far wall—though it was suffering very little damage from the onslaught. 

“She’s done this before,” Armin commented as he typed on his console, pulling up the profiles for four other assassins, their retired faces scowling through the glares of the many computer screens around them. “Eliminating competition by stealing their bounties.  In the end, they’re forced into early retirement for repeatedly failing to finish their jobs. They’re not likely to be hired if they can’t actually kill anyone.” 

“I’m surprised she doesn’t just kill them.”

“Easier in the short run, to be sure, but this way she gets exponentially more money in the long run.  Her rates are exorbitantly high, even compared to the other killers in the top tier of this business.” 

The steady clacking of Armin’s fingers on the keys was slightly calming for Eren, who gave up knife throwing in favor of sharpening them. 

“I’m in that top tier, right?”

The silence that answered cut his pride worse than the blade on his finger.  As he licked his wound, he groaned and threw himself to the punishingly hard floor.

“Ughh… you’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“You were getting there before she started targeting you.  Now you’re lower third tier at best.”

“This is fucking bullshit!” 

“I’m more concerned with how she’s managed to tail you. She’s obviously hacked into our systems at some point—remember how she quoted the content of our communications?”

“Next time I see her, I’m just going to take that stupid scarf of hers and—“

“It’s hard to know if she’s working alone to hack into our systems, but if she is working alone, I find it hardly fair that she could be so skilled a killer _and_ be competent enough to work through _my_ security.” 

“We should set a trap.”  Eren stamped his foot, fists clenched and eyes dancing with a strange sort of malice. 

“What did you have in mind?”  Armin spun around in his chair, raising slender fingers to his chin. 

“Uhh…”  His grip loosened ever so slightly.

“You don’t have any ideas, do you?”

“You’re the smart one; _you_ think of something.” 

“Your confidence in me is touching. I wonder just where you’d be without my guidance.”

“Probably wrapped up in a blanket and getting high somewhere.” 

* * *

 

An assassin’s pay was nothing to scoff at. Those in the business could enjoy quite a comfortable for long stretches in between jobs and with only a couple dozen jobs, one would have enough for an early retirement. The last time Eren bothered to check his finances, he considered himself a rather wealthy man. But he loathed to consider himself in the same rank as the wealthy men who hired him.  Men who always paid for the services of others to do their dirty work were usually abhorrent.  Spineless, simpering fools who expected money to see them through anything and everything in life.  And maybe it was a bit hypocritical of him to scoff at their general incompetence—given his current reputation—but at the very least, they could grow some fucking balls.

“I assure you, Mr. Benedetti, you don’t have to worry about a thing.  I’m going to keep you safe from any harm.”  His tone was as polite as he could manage it, which was an admirable feat, given how much he wanted to just rip the man’s bushy moustache straight off his face.

“You fucking better!  For how much I’m paying you for this—if I die, you’re not getting a cent, you hear me?”

_And if you live, you better pay me triple as a bonus for having to put up with your pompous, sorry ass…_

Being a hired gun was a much easier job when the job was killing, not protecting.  Security detail was not Eren’s favorite idea of work, but he had to take what he could get these days. 

“This bitch who’s after me…” mumbled the fat old Italian, wringing his sweaty fingers.  “I’ve heard tell she’s the best in the business.” 

“At the end of the day, she’s just one woman.”

“And you’re just one man!  Boy, rather.”  He spat, his cheeks growing splotchy with color. 

A younger Eren might have stabbed the man in the gut. No, a younger Eren would _definitely_ have stabbed the man in the gut; but an older Eren was more mature, more collected… however much of his willpower it took, he did not kill the man.  Instead, he opted to step outside for some air.

“I’m going to do a perimeter check. It’s almost sundown.”

“If she gets to me while you’re gone!!”

The door slammed behind him followed by blissful quiet. Even his aggravated stomping was muffled by the plush carpet.  Honestly, it would be the easiest thing for someone to sneak up on the fat bastard and kill him. His grounds were stupid big, covering an unnecessary amount of square footage, and even with a dozen or more security cameras, there would be blind spots.  Someone like Mikasa would find them without any trouble at all. With a large estate there also came the need for an extensive staff, and it would be only too easy to slip in under the guise of the rotating help. 

“Why don’t you just draw a big target on your back to help her along?”  Eren grumbled to himself as he made his way towards the back gardens. 

The bastard had motherfucking pomegranate trees just growing in his backyard.  As if that was a perfectly normal thing to have.  Eren snatched one from one of the low hanging branches, slicing it open with his switchblade, the ruby juices staining his fingers and flowing down his wrist. 

“You can come out, you know!” he called, biting down on a mouthful of arils.

A lithe figure darted between the branches and swung down in front of him. 

“Kim,” she nodded. 

“It’s Eren.” 

“Possible?”

“Jaeger.” 

She laughed. 

“If you were going to lie, you could have come up with a better name than that.” 

Eren heard Armin chortle into his earpiece and scowled.

“Shut up!” 

“In any case, Jaeger-Possible, you’re in my way.”

“I was never in your way, you keep _putting_ me in your way.” 

“Same difference, really.”  She shrugged, fiddling with the end of her scarf.   “You know that windbag isn’t worth protecting, what’s the point in trying to stop me?”

And before he could articulate a response—which sometimes took a while—she had placed her hands on his shoulders, using him as support as she flipped over him, sprinting in the direction of the manor.

“Rrraaagghhhh!!!” 

Eren ran after her as fast as he could, closing the distance as she took down the other guards as easily as running over children. Just as she got to the room where Benedetti was lying in wait, Eren tackled her knees, and they both went tumbling down to the floor.

She turned her silencer towards him and he kicked it out of her hands, grabbing her wrist and pinning it behind her back. Deftly she twisted and took his neck between her thighs, squeezing tight and forcing him to release his grip.

The moment his fingers were loose, she sprang up, her hands flying to open the door, her eyes locking on Benedetti before the ground was swept from beneath her feet by a ravenous grip on her ankle.

Benedetti screamed and dove behind his desk, screeching,

“Kill her!  KILL HER!!!  Don’t let her get me!”

Mikasa kicked at Eren’s hand, and he felt his knuckles crunch and fracture.

“Agh!!” 

She scrambled towards the desk, pulling a dagger from her boot, and Eren dove for the gun she had earlier dropped.

In the instant that he aimed it, her blade was on Benedetti’s throat, and they paused a moment, panting hard.

“What are you waiting for, shoot her!”

“You can’t tell me this lowlife is worth protecting,” Mikasa countered, pressing the edge of the blade further under his bristled chin as she stared down the barrel of the gun aimed at her head.

“No, he’s not…” Eren mumbled.

Then he pulled the trigger.

“Graaghhhh!!”  Benedetti fell backward, a spray of blood erupting from the backside of his skull; Mikasa let him fall, eyes wide at the bullet hole lodged between his eyes.

“You killed him,” she whispered.

“As I was hired to do.” 

“What?” 

Laughing, Eren slowly rose to his feet, steadying both hands on the gun, which he kept aimed in her direction.

“I’ve gotta hand it to you, Armin,” he chuckled, half into his earpiece, half at present company.  “She fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“What are you talking about, _I_ was hired to kill him.” 

“Yeah, by Armin.” 

Realization dawned in her grey eyes.

“Getting it now?  You see, another client hired me to kill Mr. Benedetti here through a secure channel.  Now, if I had just made my way over, you’d have followed me and killed him thinking that you were screwing up yet another one of my jobs—thanks for the ones you’ve ruined, by the way.”

She gave a polite sneer. 

“But see, Armin had a better idea. As he usually does. He hired you so that you’d be here thinking you’d get some money out of this venture, work as usual. And then I approached our esteemed Mr. Benedetti at a later date, offering my services to protect him against you. And really, how could you resist a job like this?  Knowing that you’d get to humiliate me on a job that was originally yours to begin with?”

Mikasa sighed, sheathing her dagger.

“Well played, Jaeger.  I’m guessing you’re going to kill me now.”

“Would you do different if you were in my position?”

She sucked in a breath to answer, but just then, a handful of Benedetti’s men came rushing into the room.  They took one quick glance at Eren, gun pointed at Mikasa, and then at the bleeding corpse of their employer on the ground and raised their weapons. 

“Shoot the girl!”   

“She killed Benedetti, get her!”

After only a moment’s hesitation, two of the men fell to the floor, shot by the silencer.  In the brief confusion that followed, Eren ran past them, grabbing Mikasa around the waist, shooting the window, and sending them both plummeting onto the ground below, sprinkled by a shower of falling glass. 

  
“What do you think you’re doing?!”

  
“Saving your fucking life, now move!!” 

His foot nearly knocked the wind out of her as he kicked her aside, but she supposed it was a better alternative to being shot. Bullets rained down where their bodies had been not seconds before, and they both ran hard, ducking between trees and statues—thank goodness for Benedetti’s lavishly decorated front lawn.

They ducked around the front gate, shrapnel nipping at their heels, taking a moment to breathe.

“Armin!  Where the fuck are you?!” 

On cue, an unmarked black sports car came zipping around the front, its back doors popping open.  As soon as the two clambered in, he slammed his foot on the pedal, whizzing off before they had even closed the doors. 

“Seat belts, please,” hummed Armin from the front seat as his passengers toppled over themselves on the bumpy ride. “You must be Mikasa.”

Icy blue eyes met calculating grey ones in the rearview mirror.

“And you’re Armin.” 

“Pleased to meet you,” he smiled as he turned the steering wheel sharply, skidding the wheels on the pavement and throwing his yet-unbuckled passengers careening into the side.

“Ah, fuck!  Armin, go easy!” Eren hissed as he nursed his fractured knuckles.

Mikasa’s guilty look did not go unnoticed.

“My, she did a number on you, didn’t she? Though it look as though you paid her back in kind at least a little bit.”  He eyed the bruise slowly forming on the side of her mouth. 

“Yeah?  I owe you a lot more than that, you know.”  He snarled at her as he fumbled with his seat belt.

“Let me,” and she took the belt from his hands, buckling him in securely. 

“Thanks…” he grumbled. 

“You saved my life.” 

“Yeah, well…” 

Armin rolled his eyes where neither could see. It was unbelievable how Eren failed to seize opportunities even when they presented themselves on a silver platter in front of him. 

“And how do you plan on repaying that debt?” Armin posed, his eyes on the road ahead, refusing to meet hers in the mirror. 

Several moments of silence passed before Mikasa smiled slowly.

“I should never have gone after Eren. It should have been you. You’re the greater danger.”

“A fact many people are slow to realize. But if you cooperate, you need not fear repercussions from me.”  He smiled.  
It was the first time in many years that Mikasa had felt a chill hit her spine, but it struck her in the moment that she saw the blond turn up the edges of his mouth in that mirror. 

“Cooperate?” Eren questioned.

“Well, she’s cost us quite a bit of money at this point; she’s even decommissioned you for a small time to come—“

“Tch, this is noth—“

“So if she could oblige by agreeing to work _with_ us for a time… then we could consider the debt repaid.”

“…”

“What do you say?  As you’re already well aware, Eren does find you attractive enough.”

“Shut up!” 

“If I stay, it’s for Eren’s sake, not yours.” Came her reply.

“The end result is the same.  You can justify it to yourself however you like.”

“You could have told me you were planning to recruit her…” Eren grumbled as he sank into the cushions. 

“Sorry, love.  But you’re a horrible actor.” 

“Whatever.  Welcome to the team, I guess.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the triumvirate is forged! I enjoy writing Armin so much, I can't believe I didn't do it sooner.


	3. Lies and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two truths and a lie: There's a plot brewing, next update is soon to follow, and I have no idea what I'm writing anymore.

 

Wearing a cast for his fractured knuckles was a hindrance, to be sure, but never quite as obnoxious during the rest of the day as it was in the mornings.  Humans are creatures of habit, and Eren always rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he woke up.  For three mornings now, that had basically involved punching himself in the face with his cast, and rubbing the serrated plaster over his eyelids a couple times before he noticed the pain.  

Aside from nearly blinding himself in the mornings, the cast also made it difficult for him to wash his face, brush his teeth, and put on his clothes.  Given the choice, he’d forgo the clothes… only their home now housed three residents, not two, and it was now required that he at least put on some pants in the morning before leaving his room.   And by the time he managed to do that much, he was exhibiting withdrawal symptoms from lack of coffee.

If only he could convince Armin to inject caffeine straight into his veins as he woke up.  Screw the potential dangers to his health—he was sure he wouldn’t live to see a ripe old age anyway.  

He was halfway towards the kitchen when he heard Mikasa’s voice softly echoing in the hallway.   Eren wondered if his haphazardly donned boxers would count as enough coverage in her presence.

“I saw my parents murdered in front of my eyes when I was a little girl, I drank their spilled blood, and avenged their deaths by flaying the cocks of their murderers .”   her voice was even as she listed off the events of her traumatic childhood as if they were items on a grocery list.

_Cheery morning breakfast conversation_ , Eren thought to himself as he listened from the hallway.  Were the gory details of her parents’ murder soon to follow?

“Didn’t think you were the type to drink blood—that’s rather unhygienic, I hope you realize,” he heard Armin sneer, and even from his current position he could see the knowing smile  in his mind.  “Or did you believe that drinking your parents’ blood would give you the strength to find their killers and avenge them someday?   Seeing as how you’ve yet to flay those cocks, I’d rethink your superstitions.”  

“How did you know I lied about avenging them?”

“Your tone of voice sounded ever so slightly angrier when you said that last  bit.  As if you were bitter about not having actually killed them yet.”  

“People say I’m an excellent liar,” Eren heard Mikasa sip from her mug .

“And people say _I _ can read minds.”  

_ And by people, he means me. _

“Your turn then.” Mikasa insisted.  

“Would you prefer two truths and a lie, or two lies and a truth?”  

“Are you going to cheat and give me all lies regardless?”

“You wound me, Mikasa.  I give you my word to follow the rules of the game.”

“I  know better than to trust your word.” 

_ She’s smarter than I thought_,  Eren allowed himself a little snigger.  

“And _you_ might as well come into the kitchen, I could hear your thundering footsteps from upstairs, Jaeger.”  

_Too smart_.

“Try eavesdropping again later, Eren.”  Armin was laughing.  “There’s coffee already brewed.”

“Yeah well, unless Mikasa wants an eyeful, I’m gonna go back to the room and put on some pants first.”  Eren called into the kitchen.

“I doubt what you have could ‘fill my eyes,’ Jaeger.”  

“Now you’re just  asking to see my package, Ackerman. ”  

“Me?  Hardly.  Can’t say the same for Armin though.”  

They were on a first name basis now?

“It measures nine inches, he’s shaved, and he  never fails to bring me to my finish.” Armin listed nonchalantly.  

“Three  straight-up  lies, just like I expected of you.”  Mikasa  giggled.  Eren didn’t think she could be capable of giggling like that.  But more importantly,

“Hey!”  

“Sorry love,  I couldn’t resist.  But boxers will do just fine so come grab your coffee and we’ll head over to the monitor room.   There’s a job for you two.”  

Eren stomped into the kitchen, whacking Armin hard on the ass in reprisal before reaching for his nonexistent mug.  

“Where’s my—“

“Mine.”   Mikasa  stated from the other side of the kitchen, taking another small sip of her tea  from a familiar piece of ceramic.

“No, that’s my mug.”

“We have more than two mugs,  Eren.”  Armin chided.  

“Yeah, but that one’s my favorite.”  

“And it’s mine now.  So you can either go without your coffee or use another mug.” Their new resident gloated.  

“I see somebody has had absolutely zero trouble settling in,”  Eren grumbled, grabbing a different mug out of the cabinet and fumbling to pour his coffee.   “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you like it here.”  

“It’s comfortable.” She shrugged.  

“And now that everyone has a mug, let’s scurry out of the kitchen, shall we?”   Armin pulled  Eren along by his cast as Mikasa trailed shortly behind.  Once situated in his chair, the blond  began to draw up several windows up on the  giant monitor, including pictures of three different men, and what appeared to be a pharmaceutical product.  

“On the left, we have Misters Reiner Braun and Berthold Hoover, officers in the special operations division of the German army.  The pills that you see in this picture are a test sample of a new, non-amphetamine based stimulant drug for soldiers.  It’s marketed as being restricted for use exclusively by soldiers in the field, as a sort of…  energy drink pill.”

“ Riiiiiight,”  Eren drawled.  Even without his coffee, he wasn’t daft enough to miss the real meaning behind those words.  

“Targets or contractors?” Mikasa  asked.

“Contractors,” Armin answered, minimizing their images and moving the third man center screen.  “This is Rod Reiss, head research scientist of the Albanian company, Sina  Pharmaceuticals.  He works at their main research facility in Switzerland, and is being accused of having stolen the drug for international mass-production.”

“And the Germans want us to ice him and bring back their secret drug,” Mikasa recited.  

“Something about this is off,” Eren  murmured, narrowing his  eyes.  “The Germans are claiming that the drug is stolen from them, but it could be they’re the ones attempting to steal that drug from Reiss, who is the actual creator.”  

“It doesn’t matter to us who made the drug.  As long as we get paid, our job is just the killing.”  Mikasa’s reply was unflinchingly black and white.  

“I’m an assassin, not a thief.”

“It’s the same thing in the end.  You steal lives, and somebody wins at the expense of another’s well-being.”  

“Those asshole Germans are obviously lying to us, and that old geezer doesn’t look like he’s capable of stealing anything!”  

“You’re both right,” Armin intervened, drawing up several more photos and documents on the screen.  “I did some more research out of curiosity, and it’s pretty obvious that Reiss and his team have headed the research on this project from day one.  But the Germans have their own ideas about what to turn the stimulant into.  It  appears that Reiss has met with these two several times before, likely because they initially tried to buy him and his research for their own, but he turned them down multiple times.  Now they’ve decided that getting rid of him would be the easier option.”

“I guess their innovation’s hit its peak and now they’ve resorted to just stealing what they can’t make.”

“Look, are you taking the job or not?”  Mikasa had little concern for the specifics.  They weren’t detectives, they weren’t law enforcement, they were trained killers-for-hire, and she had a debt to repay.  

“No—“

“Yes.”  

Armin ignored Eren’s venomous look and promptly began to explain.  

“Like I said, you’re both right.  We’re killers, not thieves.  It would be easy to tell Misters Braun and Hoover that we’ve killed Reiss but couldn’t get our hands on the research.  So long as they can see that production of the drug has stopped and Reiss is nowhere to be found, they won’t question that he’s dead.  Meanwhile, we take Mr. Reiss into our protective custody.”  

“Ok, now you’ve lost me.”  

“A frequent occurrence to be sure,” Armin smiled.  “I’ve some ideas of my own for what to do with Mr. Reiss’ drug.”  

“I don’t know when you decided we’d move into the drug trafficking business, but what makes you so sure he’ll cooperate with us ?  He refused to work with the Germans several times, remember?   He's not going to just go along with criminals if he's already refused the military. ”  

“ _They _  can’t make open threats.  But we can.  And he has a family.”   The screen now displayed a picture of the old man smiling among a group of five children.   “And in addition to the children you see here, he also has one estranged bastard daughter in Sweden, to whom he sends money three times a year.  Mention the names  Freida, Dirk, Ulklin, Florian, Abel, and  Historia, and he’ll come willingly, no questions asked.”  

The quiet that followed Armin’s plan lasted several minutes.  When he could glean neither approval nor objections, he opted to break the silence himself.  

“Success, I’ve made the both of you very, very uncomfortable.”  

“Armin, this… I know your plans usually go well, but this is pretty dramatic.   Not to mention a major change from what we usually do. ” Eren  was rubbing at the back of his neck, eyeing the images on the screen nervously.  It was hard enough for him to try to get used to having one extra person around their home.  Now a second one was suggested, who was a hostage not a comrade, and who would have family missing him in the real world.  

“I’m a killer, not a kidnapper, not a babysitter… none of this is what you hired me to do.”  Mikasa  fidgeted  with her teacup, scraping her dull nails along the glossy finish of the rim.  

"And why are you so interested in this drug, Armin?  You don't have any experience with biochemicals or medicine, and if you're thinking of switching  occupations from killers to drug dealers, I should've been told before this."

"I'm not going to make threats against his family."  Mikasa  stated firmly.  "Whatever debt I owe Eren, I'm not going to repay it this way."  

"Honestly, I didn't think that two trained killers would have such soft hearts about a little intimidation and extortion."  Armin sighed, leaning into his chair.  "Fine.  Kill him then if that's easier, and bring me his research.  Misters Braun and Hoover are paying quite the handsome fee.  Even extracting half of it for killing Reiss will weigh our pockets nicely."  

"Okay..."  Eren  mumbled, a nervous itch irritating him inside his cast.  "So when do we leave?" 

"Tonight," Armin stood to excuse himself from the room.  "And because it's the first assignment the two of you will work together, I'll be joining you on this round."  He  took his leave before there could be any further objections, leaving the other two alone in the monitor room.  

"I don't trust him."   Mikasa crossed her arms, eyeing the picture of Rod Reiss on the screen with mild distaste.  

"We're all in the business of killing people.  I think not trusting each other is just in our nature."  Eren scratched at his head, downing the rest of his coffee in hefty gulps.  

"I trust you."

"Why, because I saved your life once?"

"Because you're a horrible liar."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is still reading, there may actually be a plot developing here.


End file.
